Human Error
by zoe.grant.927
Summary: Set in the Christmas Special. John tries to convince sherlock of his feelings for a certain young pathologist.


"You've never had… experiences?" Dr Watson pushed as they sat in the dark, his frustration growing. "You're flesh and blood, Holmes, surely-"

"Why are why talking about this?" Holmes snapped, "Why, Watson, in the middle of the dark, I have told you, emotions are-"

"A kink in the mechanism," Watson finished.

"Exactly, see you're quoting me, the machine, the-" Holmes said, but Watson cut him off angrily, "No, I write you that way, the public laps it up, but it's not true! You're not the machine, you have feelings like everybody else."

Holmes sighed in exasperation, "my god, what are we doing, kneeling in the dark, discussing this?! It's ridicoulous-"

"Because you're not a mechanism, a machine, you're human!" Watson snapped, "and though you refuse to admit it, you have feelings, you have emotion, surely, surely, you cannot act like such a…. a _machine_! I know it to be far from the truth and so do you, Holmes!"

Holmes turned and looked at the ground, his breath floating away in the midnigjht air. "Why do you bring this up?" he muttered. "It's nothing to do with anything concerning this case-"

"Well now that is ridicoulous," Watson cut him off as soon as he heard it. The image flashed across his mind; of a young woman in a fake mustache besting his friend at his own game. She didn't fool him, no, no, her determination was admirable but she could do with a better disguise….. However, the way she stood there and boldly challenged him had turned his head. But Sherlock… how was it that the man could be so observant and yet not have a clue to as to-

"Watson!" Watson looked up, startled. Holmes was glaring at him and still angry. "You've been sitting in silence for ten seconds, man, out with it!"

Watson straightened up. "You say you've never had feelings-"

"Feelings," Holmes spat, "are a weakness."

Watson continued on. "Feelings are human nature. You pride yourself on your brain, your intellect, but you are blind."

"You're making no sense," Holmes huffed. "Sitting in the dark waiting for a bloody ghost trying to solve a murder and you want to tell me-"

"Holmes," Watson sighed, "you told me feelings have nothing to do with the case, because it's always the case, and you are so intent on isolating from all human emotion and playing the game and since that's obviously the only thing you're interested in, fine. You have an amazing mind, and I have seen you use it to solve the puzzles, to entertain yourself, -"

"I'm not interested; for god's sake, enough!" holmes snapped.

"but I think," Watson continued, "it will never be enough for you. Because you're missing out one thing every time. In every case you see everything, you can predict everything, but you can never see yourself. Accepting weakness.

"Shut up!" Holmes said, his fists curling into tight balls, his exterior slowly losing control.

"No, you shut up and listen!" Watson burst angrily throwing his hands up in the air, "You have to put up a fight, build your bloody wall," he stood up, and pointed at Holmes, his temper fuming, "but there's one thing you don't see and by all the heavens I don't know how as you claim to be so bloody brilliant, but there's something there, slowly pushing its way in, wether you like it or not, and it will always be there! They will always be there. Always challenging you, always hoping. And that's the problem with you, you can't stand being weak-"

"Quiet!" Holmes snapped, and flew from his spot in a rage so violent for a moment Watson thought he might be punched. "I don't need to hear this, shut up, you idiot!" And then it was gone, the fire dead and the stone walls building themselves up again. Holmes sat, quietly, and said no more.

Watson sighed, and once more, fleetingly, the young woman flashed across his mind, bold in the face of the dectective's arrogance, matching his comments with the same fire and wit. He had seen it, every time, their rapport as they challenged each other, the way something, tiny but powerful sparked up in his companion every single time he was with the fiery young woman. The chink in the armor. And he feared more than anything that his friend would never let himself believe it.


End file.
